Calling The Shots
by grey-zebra
Summary: Allison Taylor moved halfway across the world, stuck with her workaholic father. Meeting bad boy Hanamiya was the last thing she needed; he refuses to let go of his toys until they break, and she was no different. Meeting Kiyoshi, she starts to accept her situation. She adapts. She falls in love. And unless she's seeing things, Hanamiya is raging with jealousy.
1. Chapter 1

_**I'm still working on Free! and the Tiger & Bunny spin off. It just takes a bit more time to complete since they're both coming to an end. So for now I'm starting a Kuroko no Basuke story. Please enjoy!**_

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"We're here," expert attorney Doug Taylor said behind the wheel. The Mercedes-Benz rolled to a silent stop at the curb, not far from the school gate currently swarmed with students. A girl emerged from the limousine, her head and shoulders held straight. She had thick honey-brown hair that fell in well-behaved waves.

"I had to pull a lot of strings to get you here," her father said in English, motioning at the school entrance close by. "Don't screw this up." He barely looked in her direction.

"Don't forget your bag," he said, this time in Japanese.

Settling the strap of her school bag on her shoulder, she shut the car door before he could say anything else, then emerged onto school grounds.

Someone watched as she settled her bag in place again, straightened her uniform jacket and turned for the door to the genkan. Hanamiya thought she looked very determined and somehow he found that determination utterly sickening.

She hadn't glanced in his direction.

He was certain she had no idea that he's following her.

And his mind was made up, just like that, in the sixty seconds it took to watch her emerge from the car, shut the door and turn to go. He had to destroy her confidence.

Allison couldn't believe it.

A handsome guy was actually making eyes at her. Guys like that didn't make eyes at Allison. Guys like that made eyes at girls as gorgeous as they were.

And no, it wasn't that Allison was ugly. She wasn't. But she wasn't beautiful either. There was something much too… practical and self-sufficient about her. Something a little too focused, as well.

Allison was born on Canadian soil, but was taken in by her estranged father living in Japan after her mother's unfortunate passing a year ago. She barely knows the language, she can't hold a pair of chopsticks and she can't seem to get the hang of Japanese manners.

As far as Allison was concerned, the teachers—and fellow students in her former school, repeatedly brought her down for petty reasons. So, really. It was probably only her imagination that Hanamiya was looking at her.

She pretended to check the time on her watch—and slid another glance in his direction. He was pretending to read the time, too. She knew he was pretending because, at the exact moment she glanced his way, he send a sideways look in her direction and one corner of that mouth of his quirked up in a teasing smile.

Maybe he was flirting with someone behind her.

She turned her head enough that she could see over her shoulder. Nope. Nobody there.

Just more shoes brimming the lockers—which, she firmly reminded herself, were what she _should_ be focusing on.

She put all her attention on the business at hand and banished the impossibly smooth-looking guy from her mind. "Putting on slippers. What a stupid rule," a voice as warm and tempting as melted caramel teased her ear. "That's what you're thinking, right?"

Good gravy. He was right behind her. There could be no doubt about it now. He was talking to her—and he _had_ been giving her the eye.

Slowly, Allison turned to him.

Jet-black hair, dark eyes, nice cheekbones, a perfectly formed jaw, a nose like a blade. Broad, broad shoulders.

He arched an ebony brow. "Well?"

She forced herself to suck in a breath and then asked warily, "What?"

"You're not from around here, are you?" His gaze flicked to her olive green eyes. Hanamiya wondered how they'd look paralyzed with fear. That particular image alone was enough to make him smile.

She knew him from somewhere. "Have we met before?"

He gave her a slow, once-over, followed by another speaking glance from those dark eyes. That glance seemed to emit something dangerous. And then he laughed, a low, smooth laugh that startled her.

"If we met before, you wouldn't have forgotten me so easily," he sneered at her for a second, and it was so laughable how she missed that tiny detail. He knew her father—Doug Taylor, the defense attorney who always gets a 'Not Guilty' verdict in every case.

He happened to go against his old man, and the foreigner's actions put him behind bars for committing a small crime.

"I, um…"

She was totally speechless. And that wasn't like her. Enough with the stumbling all over herself. She stuck out her hand. "Allison Taylor."

"Hanamiya Makoto." He wrapped his cold fingers around hers. "So. You're the new kid," he said in English, and she fell back a step because of it, coming up short against the lockers behind her.

"Those western eyes, and your name. You speak Japanese well enough, but with a certain informality… and is that North-American dialect I detect?"

"You're an expert on accents?"

"No. I'm smart. And observant, that's all."

He listened to her speak, just looking at her and hearing her annoying little voice—it'll make him cringe inwardly for the next, oh, say, half a century or so. Before she could continue her rambling streak, he interrupted. "Allison, you know your way around?"

The way he said her first name, with such impossible passionate intent, well, she liked it. She liked it way, way too much. "Ah, no," she confessed. "It can't be that hard though."

"You'll be _fine_ on your own." He put a definite edge in his voice. Will she notice? Maybe. He tended toward sarcasm when he was bored—and she was really boring.

She studied Hanamiya for a moment, a direct, assessing kind of glance. "Are you pestering me on purpose?"

He seemed amused. So she _had_ picked up on his sarcasm. "I'm just teasing. Girls like that kind of thing."

"Not me, obviously," Allison told him off in broken Japanese. She walked away. Hanamiya followed her as if he were chained to her, keeping his dangerous eyes fixed on her as though he wanted to eat her.

This will be interesting.

The following week, Allison slid through the morning and made it into her afternoon English class with the clock pushing toward two. The teacher asked her to stand up and discuss the play everyone had been assigned to read. Hanamiya didn't expect for Allison to have her stuff together, sitting at her desk near his, looking all stupid.

Then, she stood up and started running it down. "Othello's a play about a colored general who was married to his Caucasian wife," she said. "The general was afraid and worried that his wife would leave him."

"Shakespeare described Othello as a Moor, but there's no reason to believe that his actual skin color was black. That probably wouldn't have been acceptable in Elizabethan England."

The teacher was small, but when he got mad, he could make himself look bigger.

"But Othello's picture on the cover showed he was a black man," she said.

"That's what the publisher assumed," Hanamiya interrupted with his all-knowing smirk. "We're studying the author, not the publisher."

His dorky followers took this as their cue to laugh as if she'd done something really stupid instead of making a simple mistake.

She sat down and glared daggers at the bad boy, silently wondering why the entire school keeps humiliating her since day one. It's unsettling.

Once, a fellow student saw Allison without an umbrella and offered to walk through the rain with the exchange student under hers.

But she experienced, firsthand, the kind students turning into stomach-churning brutes, reveling in the hilarity of harassing her.

Allison wasn't too sharp, and the awkward difference in culture made her an easy target. All she wanted was to blend in and drift through school until she can go back home under her aunt's care.

It'll all be sorted out soon.

This isn't where she'll end up for the rest of her life.

She _has_ to believe that.

Her beliefs crumbled the following day. She came to class to find her desk had been transformed into a memorial, with a wreath and a picture of her in the center, incense lit and a condolence card filled with mocking messages from students and some teachers, including her homeroom teacher.

"This is sick," Allison said on a choking voice, and covered her mouth. She indulged in bitter weeping, wetting her cheeks with her tears as she ran out the classroom.

The gymnasium was a roomy place. Allison expected the basketball team reigning on the court with the ball put into play. That was clearly not the case.

A chewing gum's pop sounded sharply.

Allison stopped venturing further and turned her head to the source, facing the bleachers, and spotted five youngsters hanging about.

They didn't seem intimidating from this distance; Hara was waving at her, his mouth covered in chewing gum. She wrinkled her nose in disgust. She couldn't believe this sorry bunch was the best-playing basketball team of Kirisaki Daīchi High:

Hanamiya Makoto, point guard

Furuhashi Kōjirō, small forward

Hara Kazuya, power forward

Seto Kentarō, center

Yamazaki Hiroshi, shooting guard

Allison felt Hanamiya check her out. She straightened her spine in defiance. Her father had always measured a person's worth by their ability to toughen up. Didn't matter how upset she was right now—never show your emotions to anyone.

"You look awful," Hanamiya openly laughed at her; Allison's tear-stained face and swollen eyes showed that he finally broke her spirit.

"Stop fucking around, you hear me!" she yelled in English.

"What did I possibly do wrong?" asked Hanamiya, feigning innocence.

"Don't play dumb with me! You're making my life a living hell!" declared Allison, desperation evident in her voice.

Hanamiya gazed darkly at her, but made no comment.

Being on the other side of the world, Allison missed her mother; she could think of nothing but her and her bright smile, and her heart was filled with memories that saddened her. "I just want it to stop," her eyes filled as she spoke.

"Are you satisfied now, Hanamiya? Make the foreigner shut up, I'm trying to sleep," Seto complained. Hara heard and appeared ready to pitch in on the insults.

"Dude, she looks like one of those little jumpy dogs with big eyes that can't get their barks straight."

"Just like you," Yamazaki threw back at him, all slumped in his seat. "I'm sure you have the same shitty eyes if you cut your hair."

"If I do that, there's no way I can avoid seeing your ugly mug, moron."

"Bring it on!" boomed Yamazaki. "I'll rip out your damn hair!"

Hanamiya leisurely made his way down the bleachers to the empty court.

He'd noticed she had stopped sliding him blushing glances. Stopped seeing him as the impossible, wonderful, hot and handsome, smooth and sophisticated guy who appeared out of nowhere and swept her off her feet.

She tried not to be overly conscious of the boy standing before her.

"You'll leave me be. You won't bother me again. Ever." Her tone said he would regret standing in her way. He showed no indication to back off.

She told him, sarcastically, "Nice chatting with you. I'm going home—"

"You're not off the hook, you know." He said it gently and quietly, for her ears alone. "I'm only getting started."


	2. Chapter 2

If Allison's mother knew what she was about to do, she would roll over in her grave.

Grave.

That one word ripped at Allison's heart, but she refused to cry in the presence of the subway strangers surrounding her. She closed her eyelids in hopes of holding back the flood of tears.

_Mom, you would hate me for doing what I'm about to do. But even you would understand why I'm doing this. If only you were still alive. Then I'd still be home, living without pain and suffering. I have to do this. I have to jump. I just have to. _

Only one thing gave Allison a measure of peace about her drastic decision—Hanamiya had assured her jumping in front of a railroad train wouldn't be as painful. The uncertainty of what she was about to commit, and the cigarette smoke from a man standing a little ways beside her, caused her stomach to become unwell.

Allison pressed her hand over her mouth, silently praying that the deed will be done quickly and the crowd's attention will be diverted elsewhere.

Her eyes started watering, and with her stomach threatening to regurgitate her lunch, she decided to deal with it and walked forward. She blinked away the tears from her eyes upon hearing the rumbling sound of a train closing in.

At sight of the latter she grew deathly pale.

She felt that all the world was growing black, safe for the colored star sugared candy currently rolling over the floor, dropping onto the railroad tracks.

She paid no mind to the littering and got closer- "Oi, watch your step!" Allison heard a deep voice calling to her as it seemed from a long distance, and she was pulled back. With great effort she fought off the dizziness as the brakes hiss and screech when the train slows down to a stop.

"That's candy wasted. But I got chocolate marbles. Want some?" exclaimed the friendly stranger, waving his ever-present candy bag in the air. Ignoring his Japanese rambling Allison felt weak and spent, and it was only then that she realized how close she was to dying.

The boy looked at her, and for a moment Allison was startled. Her pulse throbbed in her ears and her breath hitched. Staring down at her were the most beautiful brown eyes she had ever seen, soft and gentle.

"Ah, you're crying."

Stuffing away his snack, he pulled out a tissue from his pocket and raised it to her face. She yanked her head back in defiance, then studied him for a moment. Amazing—with his impressive 193 cm leaving a 30 cm difference in length, she had no choice but to look up.

"Will you be alright? You don't look well," he asked as gently as he knew how.

She wiped away her tears with the back of her sleeve. It was obvious to her that he wanted to help, but no matter how helpful he was, he's still a stranger. The last time she fell for a handsome guy, he'd ruined her high school life.

With a sudden tight grip on her upper arm, he battled with what to do before she could leave. Worry toward the girl for putting herself in harm's way seeped through Kiyoshi's mind like deadly poison. His chest heaved at the idea of leaving her alone.

"Let go of me," she threatened in English. She looked so innocent and vulnerable, with her pale complexion and doe-eyes. If Kiyoshi was anything, he prided himself on being a gentleman. So he wouldn't leave her here, not even if she wanted him to.

In the fast-food-restaurant Maji Burger, Allison glanced out through the glass window while Kiyoshi ate in silence. A half consumed cheeseburger sat desolated on her dining tray.

"What's your name?" he asked in Japanese after eating his share. The sound of her incessant slurping was proof enough that she didn't care less. "I can get you a refill of"—he interrupted his Japanese to try to pronounce it the English way—"Coca-Cola?"

"_Hottoite_," she answered, her intonation not even close to perfection. Leave me alone.

He laughed softly. "So you _do_ know what I'm saying. Just not enough, I reckon."

Allison felt her cheeks flush with shame. He looked like he'd settled some sort of battle in his mind, and his face lit up when he came to a final conclusion. "I'll teach you the basics."

He leaned close with innocence clothing his face, making him even more of a threat. His gentle eyes penetrated the very depths of her soul. She knew her eyes had to be popping out of their sockets, but she couldn't help herself. This big guy wants to tutor her? Someone who looked like him and bled confidence?

Her eyes narrowed. What was wrong with him that he's willing to spend his free time tutoring a stranger? _He's framing you, Allison. That's reason enough._

"You're such a dumbass, a total stranger." Allison hoped he'd get the message; she wasn't about to get conned again.

"I'm Kiyoshi Teppei," he answered, pressing his mouth together in amusement. "Call me Teppei."

Okay, now he's being _too_ friendly. She knew well enough that in Japan everyone has to be addressed by their last names first. Skipping that phase, Kiyoshi was indicating she'll warm up to him eventually.

"What's yours?" he asked, slanting his handsome face, then blinking several times before he smiled again. Dumping him was going to be a lot harder than she thought. Why did he have to have such gorgeous eyes, shining so brightly with a mixture of joy and playfulness?

"Allison," she murmured.

"Now we're not strangers anymore, are we?"

"Still a dumbass, I see. You don't know anything about me."

Kiyoshi loved the sound of her voice. Even during a string of insults directed at him, that Canadian accent skipped across his heart before drilling right down into him.

"I _want_ to get to know you."

He was nothing short of desperate. If Kiyoshi didn't come along when he had, a pretty good idea of what _could_ have happened to her remained fresh in his mind. The thought alone made him shudder.

"Just hear me out," he said, face calm, senses alert. "I don't know what you're going through or what brought you to Japan in the first place. I definitely won't pry in your affairs, but I want to help. I'm afraid," he paused for a brief moment, concern evident in his eyes, "you'll end up hurting yourself."

"So you were acting stupid all along?" Allison chortled sarcastically. There's no way she'll let him tag along any longer. "Okay, you can give up now. The Japanese are rotten to the core. I'm not falling for the good act again, not anymore."

"But"—he tensed slightly at her prejudice—"Not everyone is like that, really. You're just overreacting."

Allison didn't let it go.

"I was pressured into shoplifting. I had my legs and arms tied while my classmates duck-taped my mouth. Even the teachers joined in on the bullying by _laughing_ at me!"

She slammed her hands on the table surface.

"And for what? Because I'm a _gaijin_, nothing but a snotty outsider?" Allison can't afford to trust anyone. she definitely knew better after the whole Hanamiya fiasco.

She felt several Japanese eyes on her: look, a Western girl making a scene.

"All I see is you," Kiyoshi said defensively. "I think you're a nice person."

She leaned into him, "And you're a dumbass."

He spread his hands disarmingly with a smile. "But you're still here talking to me," he whispered back happily. She forced a smile. It was no use arguing with this guy. She adjusted her schoolbag, then turned and threaded to the exit, away from him, not even looking back at him, but knowing he'd follow like an attached puppy.

That was not the case.

It seemed Kiyoshi had given up and walked out a little later. He reached around the corner just in time to see Allison kick a shady youngster in the shin with her foot. It took Kiyoshi so by surprise that he had to stifle a laugh.

"You little—" Filthy words poured from the youngster's mouth. He yanked her close to his body, his face a mere inch from hers. She managed to jerk back and swing her fist at him, striking the guy's face. That only angered him more, and he yanked her close again.

He'd seen enough.

Kiyoshi ran up to them, grabbed the guy by the back of his shirt and shoved him away. The attacker landed near a trashcan, but quicker than the snap of a whip, he darted back and rammed his head into Kiyoshi's gut.

All air fled from his lungs. He doubled over and struggled to pull in a breath. His attacker lunged at him, but Kiyoshi managed to sidestep him this time. The thug slammed against the wall face-first. Taking his chance, Kiyoshi yanked his arms behind his back.

"You should learn when to back down." Squirming, the guy tried to break free, but Kiyoshi held him in a tight grip.

"Teppei! Stop playing hero and let him go."

Kiyoshi's gaze turned to Allison. When he released him, the only way to describe what he saw in his beady eyes was evil intent.

"You'll hear from me," he hissed.

Kiyoshi assumed he was being threatened. He didn't care less. "That uniform. You're from Kirisaki Daīchi High, aren't you?"

Allison swung her gaze between her classmate—Aira Ryohei, a loyal Hanamiya follower—and Kiyoshi, not at all sure that she'd witness another fight. "Fuck this shit, I'm outta here," Aira spat as he lifted his hands in the air. Kiyoshi relaxed his shoulders for a full two seconds, until he remembered Allison.

"You alright?"

She broke eye contact with him, and her gaze landed on his arms. Arms that had easily plucked away Aira. Strong arms that drew her attention and admiration.

Allison knew she should look away, knowing that Kiyoshi would notice. But she found she couldn't help herself. The bulges beneath his dark school jacket captivated her attention, as did the width of his broad shoulders and chest. Her eyes moved to his firm jaw, and she watched in fascination as the muscle in his jaw worked back and forth. Something about the strength of it set her heart all aflutter.

"I'm guessing you're totally fine?"

She whipped her gaze up to his eyes. Warmth rushed to her cheeks. From the playful tone of his voice, he must have seen her gawking at him.

"Can I at least accompany you home?"

Watching her work hard not to show her discomfort, he burst out laughing. When he laughed it was true and unconstrained. It rose right out of him. This erupting rolling laugh of his, seemed to put her at ease in a way that connected her to her old life back in Canada.

His brown eyes were pleasant to gaze into now. In fact, they reminded her of her mother's gentle eyes. "I guess so," she said, with an annoyed voice—though she was anything _but_ annoyed.

Kiyoshi smiled that goofy smile, never failing to make her tremble with hope and excitement. "Good enough for me."


	3. Chapter 3

It was a typical annoy-the-foreign-exchange-student day Allison knew all too well in the land of the rising sun. After a long afternoon of slinking in the background, Kiyoshi, the tall, ruggedly handsome boy she'd met three days ago, awaited her at the school gate. Ever smiling, he suggested showing her around.

Why not? Allison needed a break.

"I don't know," she found herself saying, regrettably. Although she saw a boy who craved to become her close friend, who was kind, gentle; those were the same qualities Hanamiya possessed that intrigued her. In the end, she was too innocent to see the treachery inside him that left her bitter, distrusting others around her.

But Kiyoshi admired her, and understood all too well the distrust in her eyes. By the time he turned to leave and promptly uttered, "Maybe next time," Allison hooked her arm with his, her heart yearning for his warmth, and her eyes begging him to be honest.

"I'm free tomorrow," she said, looking straight ahead now. He grinned, then gave a playful bop on her nose. "We'll meet up tomorrow morning then, if you feel up to it."

Allison agreed, then crinkled her assaulted nose, mumbling, "I'm not a child," under her breath. He smiled, aware that the mere thought of spending a day with her ignited a flicker of warmth in his chest.

The following morning, Kiyoshi tried to quell the slow fire building within him, but the closeness of Allison's body against his made his temperature rise. They stood huddled under his umbrella to keep out of the rain. A soft, steady, dewy rain that rolled off his umbrella and fell at their feet like silky, liquid petals.

The sudden rain didn't stop the Japanese from crowding the streets, Allison noticed. She saw Goth girls in their black garb vamping through rain puddles with their huge black and white polka-dotted umbrellas, as well as tough-looking guys with auburn-dyed hair wearing square-toed boots and long black jackets that extended down over their hips.

She drew in her breath when she observed a beautiful woman in a kimono with delicate white blossoms embroidered on her sash, text messaging on her cell phone as she walked past.

Her presence reminded her she was in a land of make-believe, where nothing was what it seemed. It made her head spin as she tried to understand a world so foreign, a world where anything goes; from pulsing neon lights everywhere to heated toilet seats to weird commercials and strange bathing habits.

Allison also had to deal with her own father who nodded his head and said, "_Hai_, yes," when what he really meant was, "I understand." A polite way of saying no. Showing what he called _tatemae_, face, instead of _hone_, his real feelings.

Although her father was _gaijin_, a foreigner like her, he followed the ways of the Japanese. Taking his time, not acting on impulse, conferring with his clients before making a decision. For her, trying to live in a culture she didn't understand was making her lonely.

Very lonely.

Maybe Kiyoshi was the companion she needed.

"The rain let up," he said, putting his umbrella away, "so stop looking so depressed."

A swift pang contorted her face, and passed. "I'm not depressed! I'm just hungry," she answered.

"Then let's get something to eat."

Allison gazed up at him and, oh, great. He was smiling again. His smile had the same effect it always did. It made her feel special, warm, cherished… and idiotic. She dipped her chin once in what she hoped was a casual nod. "I'm good with whatever's on the menu."

Tired and wet, they strolled into the Steak Bomber restaurant. Amongst the lively talk in the background, Kiyoshi and Allison started asking more personal questions to get to know each other better, sitting across from one another at a heavy, wooden table in a corner. It was hard to hear sometimes, with people always breaking out in loud laughter and shouting.

" _Dono kurai seikyū sa remasu ka?_" This time, Allison conversed in broken Japanese. How much do you charge? He admired her perseverance and answered in his mother language—slowly, so she could understand more easily. "There's no money involved. I teach you proper Japanese and you teach me English. That's really all there is to it."

He beckoned a waitress and ordered food in rapid Japanese. Allison could only point at what she wanted on the menu. "Why do I have to pick up on a foreign language, anyway? I'm not staying for long." Her face darkened; for a moment her attitude took a turn for the worst. "I hate it, the sense of pride, the people, the language. It's way different from "—she paused—"Canada."

"You miss your hometown." She shrugged her shoulders. "But you came here anyway?"

"I didn't have a choice. Anyway, that's hardly important." She settled against the back of her chair. "Just tell me what you got planned."

"Okay. Right." He perked up with a dazzling smile. "First, I need to ask… did you join a club at school?"

"A club—no, not interested. Most of my schoolmates insist on ignoring or excluding me from their group, form secret pacts to humiliate me, call me names, and spread rumors about me, so it's impossible for me to join any club. Not like I _want_ to join; they're all a bunch of—"

"That's your problem right there." He frowned, which he always seemed to do whenever she messed up, and this irked her. "You're not even _trying_ to adapt, or make friends. They see you as someone who thinks she's all, that and your holier-than-thou attitude only proves them right. Try to be nice. Period."

"Right," Allison smirked. "Maybe you should try and be mean for a change, and then we'll talk."

"There you go again, acting all superior and assuming the leader role. You'll have to work on that."

"As long as you work on getting rid of that creepy smile of yours."

Kiyoshi sighed. On the outside, Allison was a simple girl who seemed to base her appearance on her natural beauty rather than trying to overcompensate with make-up, nail polish and the like. Unfortunately, Allison showed signs of a rotten personality.

He leaned back from the table in mock fear as the waitress placed down a precariously balanced pyramid of dishes. "Did you order all this?" His face fell open at the soup, salad, sushi appetizers, and a succulent piece of steak.

"Don't worry. I'll pay for my share this time." Allison felt considerably better than before. Hungry. A bit impatient. Excited. She knew the feeling of being stuck in a foreign country would creep back, but for now—she dug in.

"Anyway…" He stared. God, she could really pack it in for someone so tiny. "How about we start studying next weekend? You're free, I get that. But I have club activities to attend to, so…"

She laid her knife and fork (still can't get the hang of chopsticks) on the table, pushed back her plate. A silence fell between them, one that was instantly filled by the restaurant's clatter of dishes and rowdy voices.

She can't possibly wait till next weekend to meet up again.

After today, Allison found more to like about him. He was the epitome of cool. Gorgeous, too. His impressive height only made him more fascinating. He was kind. Funny. Sensitive. He wasn't bad, like Hanamiya.

"I've been thinking," Allison murmured and glanced upwards, after they paid the bill. "Can we start tomorrow?"

Surprise flickered in Kiyoshi's eyes. "You like me that much?" he teased, slipping his wallet into his pocket.

"Don't be stupid! The sooner I know the basics, the better."

"So saying you like someone is stupid in your eyes?" He turned serious. "I like having you around, Allison. Be honest with me and just say you like me too."

Standing close to her, his hot breath on her neck making her shiver with a tremor that extended down to her toes, he was explaining it was normal to reach out for others, to be friends, always looking out for one another even if they were apart.

"I…" she hesitated, then closed her eyes against the naked free-fall. "I like having you around, too."

"There you go," he said, glowing with such intense happiness, Allison saw red from embarrassment.

"You're an idiot, Kiyoshi," she managed to say. "I told you to call me Teppei. It's easier to pronounce."

"Kiyoshi-_san_ it is."

"Don't add honorifics! Please. Stop calling me Kiyoshi." Despite his protests, Kiyoshi's tone was light, with the flavor of playfulness. Already, he was looking forward to tomorrow.


	4. Chapter 4

"He looks exactly like Teruhiko Saigo, like totally!"

"What the hell is she talking about, All?" Tada looked at Allison even though she had no idea what Mariko was going on about.

Her stomach growled and she glanced at Tada's bento— cute samples of salad, fresh fruit, tempura vegetables and an assortment of sushi. Unlike most students, she overslept often in the morning. Because of this her lunch consisted of something small, popped out of a vending machine.

If it wasn't for Tada's more than generous bento leftovers she'd go cross-eyed from hunger. "I don't know. Some new guy?"

She felt the most bizarre sense of pride that she had, somehow, made friends even through the horror of her realization that she'll never be safe—Hanamiya always kept tabs on her, driving her in a dark corner whenever they would cross paths.

Others were bullied as well, like Mariko, who didn't pay much attention to academics, spending her time fooling around with guys, and Allison's new friend Tada, who was shunned for coming out of the closet. They were the minority here, misfits in a school of misfits, and they promised to stick together like the three musketeers.

"Even I don't know who he is," Mariko shrugged, speaking through a mouthful of yogurt. The sight was unappetizing and Allison looked away. Mariko was dieting. Again. Even though she doesn't need to. "All I know is he's so fine. Like, a total stud. He might even be cuter than Hanamiya Makoto."

Allison tried to give Mariko her best sour-looking face but she just grinned and licked her spoon. The foreigner wasn't interested in seeing this new, second-year hot guy. Hanamiya was something else—just the sound of his name gave her a thrill. And of course Mariko knew this.

Mentally abused and still crushing on the bad boy.

She couldn't have been more pathetic if she tried.

But her body betrayed her, every damn time, her heart racing ridiculously and her hands stupidly clammy now that she was thinking of him. "Isn't that the new guy?" Allison changed the subject.

Mariko whipped her head around, hunting the classroom for fresh meat with her dark-rimmed eyes, rising slightly in her chair, her already short skirt riding up on her thighs, a look that had gotten her in trouble more than once by teachers.

"Where?"

Tap tap tap.

Mariko looked at the window in the hallway, startled, to see the guy she was fantasizing about peering into the classroom. Dark brown hair with a nice wave to it, and those crazy-chocolate eyes. A perfect nose. Broad shoulders set off by one hand on his forehead, one on his hip, making his forearms pop a bit, the muscles from neck to shoulder joint stretching like an athlete's.

It was like looking at one of those guys on TV, an actor in a show you watch not for the plot, but for the eye candy. Mariko couldn't help but utter a breathless "Yeah, that's him."

When Tada turned his head to see what the fuss was all about, he froze over in his seat. "Man, you are a thousand kinds of idiot! I should have known it was _him_." Mariko raised her pierced eyebrows, watching Tada drag away her handsome prince when realization hit her like a ton of bricks.

"No way!" she gasped, her perfectly manicured hands covering her mouth.

Allison laughed.

"Oh, shut up!" Mariko complained, but eventually couldn't help joining in on the laughter.

"Okay, when did you hook up with Mr. Hot-Pants?" Mariko piped up, strolling beside Tada after the bell sounded and practically stalked him like a mad woman. He rolled his eyes, speeding up his pace. "Who cares?"

Mariko scoffed. "I do. Just spill the beans."

"Don't feel like it."

She wagged a finger at him. "Don't leave me out! I thought we were friends."

"Friends knows when to back off, like _totally_." He mocked Mariko's tendency to use a very feminine way of speech.

"Okay I get it. You're so uptight." Tada sighed in relief and relaxed, "You totally lurrrrrrve him, don't you?" but when Mariko opened her mouth and nudged him teasingly, he turned as rigid as a stone, his teeth clenched in frustration. "No shit, Sherlock."

"Speaking of boyfriends… " she paused, nudging her head towards the school gate. "That guy is here again."

Tada glanced over at Kiyoshi opening whatever he'd taken out of his pocket. Skittles. He popped a few into his mouth, cocking his head at Tada and tilting the plastic package in his direction. "Want some?"

"No thanks," Tada answered, slapping Mariko's hand away when she reached for the candy. "Allison is in the classroom," she pouts, rubbing her hand to relieve the pain. "She can't find her study notebook—if _studying_ really is what you guys do—so we left without her."

Kiyoshi popped another piece of candy in his mouth, lemon flavor bursting on his tongue, savoring the sugary sweetness. "What else should we be doing?"

"_Don't _even go _there_," Tada frowned down upon Mariko, and she closed her mouth with another obvious pout.

"I'll just wait a bit longer then." Kiyoshi's smile was beyond blinding. Most guys would leave when Tada looked them dead in the eye with murderous intent, but Kiyoshi seemed unaffected. In fact, he seemed rather used to the cold treatment.

Kiyoshi was like his dumb boyfriend, Katakura Shige. They had a kind of magnet inside of them that drew people like moths to a flame. He'd fallen in love with Shige in a moment, the first time he saw him, even before he opened his mouth and began to chat up a storm.

He understood that sort of instant fascination, the thrill it gave you just to watch someone radiating so much energy, you find yourself turning toward the source, like the sun.

He couldn't help but be attracted.

And neither could Allison, he guessed. That doesn't mean he'll let this guy whisk her away.

"You sure you don't want one?" Tada's eyes were on him with so much jealousy Kiyoshi could feel it like an atomic bomb blast. "I guess not," he laughed cheerfully.

"Oh my god, you guys," Mariko interrupted, digging for some lip-gloss and instead found a notebook—Allison's notebook, covered with purple eye shadow crumbled into pieces at the bottom of her purse. "She's totally gonna kill me."

Allison dug in her desk as two giggling girls passed by in the hallway. The halls weren't crowded because the bell had already sounded. Her desk did not hold the notebook she was looking for.

Allison glanced at her watch. Kyoshi was probably waiting for her. She was tired and grumpy and didn't try to hide it, stomping her foot down in a childish manner.

"Lost something?"

Ah, hell. That familiar smooth voice with way too much authority gripped her gut. The guy sounded like a total asshole, a smug criminal with a bad reputation. And yet she couldn't help but begin to react, a breathless "Hanamiya," nearly popping out involuntarily. Holding back, she wasn't even breathing for fear she would say something stupid.

He smirked, the look of a guy evaluating what to say next as seconds ticked by and she did nothing but stare at him. _Say something, Allison. Say something. Anything. Don't let him undermine your confidence. Why is he here?_

"What are you doing here?" she asked, carefully cultivating a neutral tone, one of reasonableness without too much inquiry, as if she didn't give a fuck what he wanted but would be polite about it.

"I need a word with you."

"We call that suspicious behavior where I come from."

"We call it manners where I come from, Taylor. Have you any?" God, he was annoying.

"You should talk. Being threatened like this brings out the worst in me."

He was heading straight for her, threading his way slowly, easily, through the maze of desks like a big cat surveying his territory, looking for the best spot to strike while Allison retreats to a safer haven.

Her hands, clenched into fists to keep them from trembling, were damp and clammy. He hadn't even pounced yet—was still in the tall grass watching, tail swishing, while Allison grazed nervously nearby—but she wasn't going down without a fight.

"Let me clear a few things up for you, Hanamiya," she announced. And there she was. The real Allison, the one he desperately tried to suppress with threats and blackmail. "First of all, I don't care what you have to say. I won't listen anymore, because for all I know you'll pull off some creepy shit like knocking me unconscious and taking me to your place, and two months from now you'll mail parts of my body to my father."

She took a deep breath and continued. "Second, if you _really_ insist on starting a conversation with me, stalking your classmate and blocking the exit when school is out clearly isn't the way to start a friendly chat. Try again when you get your soul back from the devil."

With that said, she jerked a frosty glare from him to the door, encouraging him to leave. He laughed darkly. "I do believe I'm being dismissed. I can't recall the last time that happened."

She didn't see it coming. She was nearly to the door, when he grabbed her and slammed her back against his body. It was like hitting a brick wall. The back of her head bounced off his chest, and her teeth clacked together from the impact. She opened her mouth to scream, but he clamped a hand over it. He banded an arm beneath her chest so tightly she couldn't inflate her lungs to breathe.

His strength was astonishing, immense. And he was only using a small fraction of it. She could feel the restraint in his body; he was being very, very careful with her. He pressed his lips to her ear. "You can't win, Taylor. You don't belong here. Drop it with the tough act. Stop struggling. Don't fuck around with me or I'll consider sending you over to your old man in pieces, like you kindly suggested."

He released enough pressure on her mouth to afford her to reply, enough on her ribs to permit her breath to fuel it. She sucked in desperately needed air. "Fuck off," she wheezed. Better to die with a snarl than a sniffle.

His arm bit into her ribs, cutting off her air again. "I've been crushing my victims' resolve for this long and I've never gotten this close to let anyone escape my spider web, fucking up the whole system. There are two kinds of people in this world, Taylor: those who cheat, and those who are walking victims."

He pressed his lips to the side of her neck. She felt his tongue where her pulse fluttered, tracing her vein. "You, Taylor, are a victim, a small insect caught in my web. There is no way out, not until I'm _done_ with you."

He let her go, and she crumpled to the floor, her blood starved for oxygen. By the time she picked herself up again, he was gone.

Walking out the school building, Allison couldn't focus on anything. Sound receded. Mariko had approached her with the notebook at hand, apologizing non-stop, but she could barely hear her, like she was underwater.

She tried hard not to think about Hanamiya's words. It was bad enough he was constantly on her mind, but having his words stuck on repeat was beyond distracting.

On the way to Kiyoshi's place, she hesitated to wander any closer to the kind giant. He just watched her struggle to keep her distance with a raised brow.

Finally, she got a bit closer, when Kiyoshi caught her.

She looked up at him, surprised, meeting his eyes, and then down at their hands, his thumb and forefinger encircling her wrist. All the air escaped her lungs, which brought up an instant, terrifying experience—at least Hanamiya wasn't forcefully choking the air out of her lungs this time.

Allison couldn't do anything but watch Kiyoshi turn her hand over and pry her fingers open. Then he took the Skittles package and tipped it over, spilling a rainbow into her palm. He closed her hand over the myriad of colorful candies, letting her go with a motion of his head. "Go ahead."

Allison opened her hand and looked down at the already melting little bits of sweetness he'd offered. Why not? She shoved all the Skittles into her mouth at once and chewed them into a mass of indistinguishable flavor, just pure sugar, glorious energy, her brain lighting up as she looked at him, thanking him with her eyes.

He grinned, tilting the package at her again, but she shook her head, licking the traces of the rainbow off her palm in a very embarrassing but unavoidable way. He tilted the package back, spilling Skittles into his mouth, chewing with her.

Then he leaned over with his fruity breath and whispered, "Better?" She turned her head to look at him and saw him smiling. Damn that smile. It was infectious. Allison smiled back, unable to stop herself.

"Much better."


End file.
